The Day the Earth Stopped Spinning
by DinoDina
Summary: The guards escorted a shocked Gwen to Jack and Ianto's bodies. She lifted the cloths over their bodies. Ianto wasn't supposed to be here, not like this, she mourned. Why wasn't Jack waking up? Janto. Gwys. Post-CoE. A happier ending (depends on your definition of "happier) of "Day 4". One-shot.


**Author's note: So, for a different story, I rewatched bits of CoE. Because I wondered how long it would take for me to cry, I also rewatched _that_ part of "Day 4". I**** ended up looking like Ianto whenever he cries. But, I also came up with this. Contrary to everything else about me, this story _doesn't_ deny the fact that CoE ever happened! And, aside from that note, Merry Christmas! **

Gwen lifted the red cloth and looked at Jack. She gave a sad smile. Jack would come back soon. She forced herself to turn away and lift the sheet covering Ianto. He was pale and still. Gwen touched his face with a tentative, shaking hand. It was cold.

Jack would breathe. He would jerk up violently, probably screaming. Ianto was usually there to hold him, to pick up the pieces. No matter how hard she wanted to be there for Jack, she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

She expected strong hands to warp around her, to join her in her mourning. To comfort her, she thought, yes, that was it. Jack had lost so much, so many. Why did she think Ianto was the one for him? He was one of many, one that started out as a simple bed-warmer.

Ianto wasn't moving. It was something Gwen couldn't come to terms with it. It was so rare for Ianto to be still, he was always moving. Whether he was cleaning the Hub, organizing the files, going out into the field, he was never completely still. It was that spark of life deep inside him, yearning to break free, that practically glowed from inside him. Even after Lisa and the cannibals. _Especially_ after Lisa and the cannibals. Ianto was always breathing. His heart was _always_ beating.

Gwen was still sitting alone on the hard floor, her hand still on Ianto's face. She was crying softly. First Owen, then Tosh, now Ianto. She never really expected him to die. He had survived Canary Wharf, where almost 800 had died. He had been Jack's lover, that must have been hard enough, what with Jack's ways. And, of course, he was Torchwood. You never survived long there. He wasn't even twenty-five.

Gwen mourned for Ianto alone, it seemed. Jack couldn't still be dead. He had come back from far more violent deaths in a shorter amount of time. She knew, because he had told her and Ianto, after Tosh and Owen's death, that how long it took for him to come back depended on how violent the death was.

He was a coward. Not that Gwen could blame him, of course, seeing the man you love dead isn't on anyone's wish list. But she needed him, right now more than ever. He was all she had left. Rhys was there, too, obviously. But Rhys, while kind and reliable, and everything she could ask for, was not Jack. He, no matter how hard he would try, would not be able to help her through Ianto's death. She needed someone who knew how she was feeling to get her through it. Rhys would help, he would make her whole again. But she needed Jack.

Jack was a coward, she told herself again. No matter how much he would put it off, Ianto was dead. And that was something he had to face. He didn't have to do it alone. She was here. She was _right here_, dammit, and he needed her just as much as she needed him, probably more.

Jack was still not moving. She didn't even hear him breathing. She rested her head on Ianto's chest. She didn't hear anything, not that she expected to. He tears soaked into his waistcoast. Back in the Hub (they didn't even have that anymore), he would have laughed it off as she would have guiltily tried to dab at it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards that escorted her here leave. How they could have been so cold in a room filled with death she would never understand. Sure, they must have been trained for it, but they were still human.

Silently, she willed Ianto to come back. She was sure Jack had done the same. She begged Jack to sit up. Neither one of them did.

Gwen lifted her face and sadly gazed at Ianto. Keeping a hand on his chest, she forced herself to turn around and face Jack. He was just like he had been when she removed the covering over him. Nothing was out of place. She didn't see his nostrils flaring was he breathed. It was like he wasn't.

Curiously and cautiously, she put her ear to Jack's chest. She heard nothing. She checked his pulse. Nothing. He wasn't breathing either, when she put her hand near his face.

Gwen gave a weak sob. She smiled. While it wasn't happy, it wasn't sad. Jack wasn't coming back. She didn't know why, but she hoped it was the universe's final gift to him. Of course, Jack had told her, had told them all, that there wasn't anything after death. But he had never gone there all the way, she decided, he _did_ always come back. Owen said that, too, but Owen had come back as well. Granted, he had still been dead, but who's to say he had retained his memories of it?

The aliens were still here, still in Thames House. Ianto's sister and her family were still in danger, as were hers, Rhys's, Jack's, and Andy's. As were everyone's. Clem was still dead. The 456 were still getting the children. The Doctor was still nowhere to be seen.

The Earth was still screwed.

But at least, Jack and Ianto, wherever they were, were probably happy.

**So, this is supposed to be a "happier" version of CoE. Also a very open-ended one. Depending on my mood, I'd say that either the Earth is screwed or the Doctor saves everyone.**


End file.
